SoaringIcarus Posted September 25, 2003 Report Posted September 25, 2003 (edited) My English professor is going to help me enter an undergrad writing contest in a few months, and told me about the Hopwood room. It's a place where the winners' writings are kept in books amid literary journals and current books of previous winners (i.e. Arthur Miller). I took an hour to read a few of the winners' poetry from last semester and noticed that between three or four authors, they used the word 'feral' maybe 9 times. The Poets convene [Arms folded; hygene: foreign.] "I like these words" A girl proffered her sheet And they thought, Sizing up her literary panties: Would this shape my figure? Will these words cover blemishes? Do they expire? Or only grow stale With grubby finger prints on the pens From which they manifest? In each consecutive poem These communal words Grow a little bit drier A new skin thicker To protect them from the Wear and tear of plucking so many heart-strings. Or so the poets believe. But honestly, Nobody here Consciously Picks up a chisel with the intent Of later painting their sculpture In shades Of hackneyed. That's just what happens when they try To calculate creativity. Poets-- Armored in undergarments With similar stains I decline your hand-me-downs; I'm just not suited to be an emperor. -Icarus Edited September 25, 2003 by SoaringIcarus
Nyyark Posted September 25, 2003 Report Posted September 25, 2003 Nyyark gives Soaring Icarus a big Macho hug Wow I've missed you alot! This poem rocks! I really like not only what you siad, but how you said it. Nice to see you here again!
Peredhil Posted September 25, 2003 Report Posted September 25, 2003 Nice. I read this as a commentary on the hypocracy of teaching intuition and creativity by lock-step fascist teaching.
Rhapsody Posted September 26, 2003 Report Posted September 26, 2003 Holy Christ! That's a winner if I ever read one. Keep me updated on how you do. At first I thought you might be posting some of Arthur Miller's stuff, but it didn't sound like his. Sizing up her literary panties: Lol, I get a weird image here. But I really like this metaphor of writing be tailored to fit one's personality. Very creative. To protect them from the Wear and tear of plucking so many heart-strings. Really really liked this stanza. When I saw "plucking of so many heart-strings", I got an image of a heart strung like a harp. I imageined music with this act of plucking. Out of curiosity, is this the musician in you coming out? Later, with the stanza about painting/sculpting, you really got me involved. What with the music and art motif, I felt you had a really original critique of art going. That's just what happens when they try To calculate creativity. I had to stop a moment when I got to this line. Its like a punchline, so severed from the rest of the poem, short and succint, and powerful in its message. I especially liked the phrase "calculate creativity". Talk about contradiction. I'm just not suited to be an emperor. Go Icarus! Fight conformity!
reverie Posted September 29, 2003 Report Posted September 29, 2003 you rock... go you... really... revery the dreamlost "sleepy time now...(?)" the dream continues...
Recommended Posts